


Silent Partner

by Pirateweasel



Series: Grid Myths and Stories [6]
Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen, dear god i hope i haven't Mary Sue'd this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateweasel/pseuds/Pirateweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU version of Tron: Legacy.  Introducing an OC to the mix.  Rinzler has a partner.  I so do not own Tron...or any songs, works, or artists referrenced in this work.  </p><p>As always, if you sue me, all you get is my hat.  So, don't sue me, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Partner

**Author's Note:**

> "Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse and unbelieving. "WHAT ARE YOU?"
> 
> "Program designation: Feral. Primary objective: Accessory program to security program, designation: Rinzler. Current function status: Security, active."

CLU’s throne ship continued to make its way across the Grid system; its goal, the Games arena coming closer every moment.  Below, in the arena stands, programs cheered wildly at its arrival.  The throne ship meant that the Leader, the system administrator, would be watching the Games this time.  It did not always happen; sometimes an entire cycle or more would pass before CLU would appear at the arena.  However, CLU would always show up at the Games for one thing; more accurately, one program. 

               Rinzler.  CLU’s arrival usually meant that the Games champion of the Grid, CLU’s greatest warrior and enforcer program would be competing. 

               And winning.  Rinzler was the most dangerous program in the Games.   No other program had ever managed to defeat him.  Not one.  CLU’s presence indicated that as well as the normal deresolutions incurred in the course of the Games, they could expect to watch as Rinzler toyed with the last program, the only one who would survive until the final round.  If they were very lucky, the final program might actually be a challenge for the champion.  Such matches were rare, but very exciting.

               They continued to cheer as the throne ship slowly came to a halt just short of the arena’s central game cell.

 

               In the throne ship, high above the stands of screaming, cheering programs, a tall, muscular figure strode into the viewing box of the ship; its golden circuited cloak swirling around its legs as it walked.  It made its way past the few programs that moved in the room, ignoring them as they gave slight bows and stepped out of the gold lit program’s path.  A slight, dark shadow of a program followed silently behind as the system administrator program walked to his seat and settled himself to lounge negligently on his throne.  No one else noticed as the silent program took up a watch at the edge of the large window that gave the view of the Games arena. 

 

               It was time for the games to begin.

 

               The smaller program, easily the smallest in the room, continued to watch the disc wars games as other programs spent their time bringing more information to CLU.  The voice of Jarvis, the sysadmin’s assistant, was a dull murmur to the program’s ear, a sound that they pushed aside and ignored as the Games continued.  A different sound caught the program’s attention.  CLU’s voice, calling their name.

 

               “Feral.”

 

               The program’s black, featureless helmet snapped toward the seat that held the Leader.

 

               “Lose the helmet for now; I want to be able to see your face,” CLU ordered, an odd, faint trace of smugness coloring his voice as he spoke.  The silent program dipped its head in acknowledgement of the order, and retracted its helmet; revealing the face of a female program, surrounded by dark, auburn red hair.  There was nothing remarkable about the program’s looks, save for the unusual color of her eyes; a strange mix of brown and green that changed even as one watched.  Most never even noticed her eyes; however, as their attention would inevitably be drawn to the long white scar that drew a line across her right cheekbone, a souvenir of a long-ago disc war battle.  Those eyes now looked out at CLU from an expressionless face, waiting to see if further orders would be forthcoming.   Instead, she only received a nod and a satisfied “Good,” from the Grid’s Leader.  When no further orders or information were received, she turned her attention back to the disc war games taking place below. 

               Feral was Rinzler’s accessory program; meant to function under, or as a partner to, the security program.  She could also perform in a stand-alone function mode, although it was rare for CLU to use her in such a fashion.  CLU had programmed her as the Grid’s only adaptive program, created from Rinzler’s combat coding and some of the User--- Kevin Flynn’s--- own coding.  She was a prototype, a way of seeing if User code could be perfected at all.  While she did have an audio glitch that manifested occasionally; she was frighteningly dangerous and relentlessly loyal to her main program, Rinzler.  And since Rinzler was loyal and obedient to CLU, Feral also obeyed CLU.

               Feral watched the games, her eyes searching out the programs as they fought.  She was looking for the smartest, the strongest, and the craftiest among them.  For the programs that would prove to be a worth-while challenge.  Such programs were few and far between; often only appearing in the games if a security or military program had defied its superiors.  Occasionally a program would be found in the game that was clever enough to use its base code in inventive ways, giving it the use of unexpected tactics in the games.  Very rarely, such a program would be released after a set number of battles.  Most would never even come close to surviving enough games to be released.

 

And sometimes, just sometimes, a program would panic.  Would do anything, promise anything, and _try_ anything to escape.  That always proved to be a mistake.  Violations were met with only two options.  Rinzler, or….Feral.  No program had ever managed to escape them.  Escape attempts were always exciting for the programs attending the games; however, they would scream and call for derezzing while watching as one or the other of the security programs fought with the rules violator. 

               For the most part, this appeared to be an average, boring lot of combatants.  Some were more skilled than others, true; perhaps having some combat coding.  None of them would prove to be much of a trial to Rinzler. Her partner was going to be in a foul mood after the games if he did not have to at least push himself a little to defeat his opponent. She glared at the combat cells below.  They were close enough that she could have leapt on top of one, if she had wanted to do so.  She had done it before, to derezz a violator that attempted to escape.  Normally, such a program would simply be trapped in a larger arena cell to await Rinzler or herself; however, in that instance the escaping program had smuggled at least one light grenade in somehow.  Rather than risk injury to the programs in the stands, she had jumped to the top of the cell that he had been fighting in….and derezzed the violator herself.

               She watched as the names of the combatants for disc wars were posted.  Hulf, Pike, Cray…some of these programs had competed before.  Of course, there was the odd stray picked up---Unknown.  She fought the urge to shake her head at the program.  Had he never played disc wars _at all_?  Honestly, he handled his disc like he had never touched one before.  Whoever he was, he certainly didn’t have any combat coding to him.  And it looked as though he would not last enough to request an upgrade. 

               Especially now.  The fool was trying to escape.  When he …dropped? ...fell?  She wasn’t sure if his initial move had been intentional or not… she had expected him to simply wait to be returned to a game cell.  That was protocol, after all.  Every program knew that much.  But no, he had begun running along the tops of cells, apparently trying to find a way out.  She watched as he jumped and slid further down the levels of cells…….right into Rinzler’s combat cell.  She gave a small, silent snort.  Well, if he wasn’t going to be a challenge, perhaps he would amuse Rinzler.  She knew her partner would have been aware of the Unknown program’s attempt at escape.

               Feral watched as the program turned to see as Rinzler strode out into his view.  Nearby, she heard the soft ‘chime’ of the gravity controls for Rinzler’s cell as CLU picked them up.  She continued to watch, as the two programs below initiated combat.   She bared her teeth in a fierce grin.  Rinzler moved with the dangerous grace of a predator; while his opponent scuttled around attempting to avoid Rinzler’s disc.  When the other program tried to use his disc, he was all power…not that he had that much of it; she probably could have done better, and she was not as strong as most of the programs on the Grid.  All power, and no skill or finesse.  And, she thought to herself with a small smirk, his aim was terrible.

               A few steps away, she heard the chiming of the gravity controls as CLU changed the rotation of the control spheres he held in his hand.  In the cell below, she watched as Rinzler’s head came up; and he turned and began to run towards the wall of the cell, preparing for the gravity reversal.  Feral’s mouth opened in a silent bark of laughter at the posturing of her partner’s opponent.  Did he really think that Rinzler was running _away_ from him?  He was about to realize the depth of how very, very wrong such thinking was.  She watched, still laughing silently as the program slammed into the ceiling, now floor, of the cell.  He struggled to a kneeling position, just in time for Rinzler to smash through one of the cell’s levels, landing crouched opposite the program.  The two programs were face to face; and rose to stand immediately, discs slicing at each other in close combat.  She looked on as Rinzler dropped gracefully under the other program’s wild swings, only to rise up and swipe his disc at the other program himself.  Feral watched as Rinzler sliced at the program’s arm. 

               Feral leaned closer to the window.  Rinzler’s disc _had_ sliced that program’s arm; she had seen it.  But the other program had not derezzed.  There was no sign of broken pixels; no leaking of code or energy loss.  That was not what had happened when this program had been struck.

 

               No.  This must not happen.  Rinzler would derezz this opponent, unless she stopped him.

 

               She took a few steps back, and started to run towards the window, her helmet rerezzing around her head as she did so.  The figure lounging on the throne started, sitting up and calling out her name, harshly, as she ran past. 

               “Feral!”

               The sound of CLU calling her name was lost, drowned out in the sound of breaking code as she crashed through the window.  She fell towards the game cell; a dark mote falling as unnoticed by the screaming programs in the stands as a drop of rain.  Feral tucked herself into a ball as she neared the roof of the cell.  In the cell beneath her, the two combatants continued their battle.

               Above her, in the throne ship’s viewing box; the gold-circuited program settled back into his seat.  Jarvis, his assistant program, leaned over, his expression slightly worried behind his visor.  “Should I have the BlackGuard sent after her, sir?”  A gloved hand waved him away.

               “Don’t bother,” CLU said.  “She’ll be back.  Rinzler will see to it, if she doesn’t.  Get this mess removed and repaired; clear this debris at least…and I want it cleared before this match ends.”  The assistant program stepped back and began issuing orders to others to begin the clearing and repair of the window.  The cycles had showed him that a program _did not_ want to disappoint the sysadmin.

               In the game cell, Rinzler continued to play with the other combatant; holding back just enough to give the impression that the other combatant still had a chance.  The fight was stalled as another shift in the cell’s gravity was signaled.  Once again Rinzler’s opponent was caught off-guard by the switch; falling to slam into the cell’s floor.  The sound of another program crashing through the cell went unremarked by its original occupants; one who was too busy struggling to regain his feet, the other who did not expect interference by his partner program. 

               Rinzler’s opponent stood and started to look around; and then, as if his eyes were somehow drawn to the source of danger, he looked up to see Rinzler falling from above.  The Games champion landed on his chest, knocking his opponent down and riding his body as it slid across the floor.  The crowd was a seething mass, chanting---Derezz, Derezz, Derezz--- around them as they came to a stop; the stranger who had tried to escape sprawled on the floor with Rinzler crouched over him, discs spinning.   The stranger looked up at Rinzler through the cracked visor of his helmet; a grimace on his face as he let his head thump back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable fall and slice of the spinning discs.

 

 A fall that was unexpectedly blocked by a hand on Rinzler’s upheld wrist.

 

               The dark, sharp planes of Rinzler’s helmet turned away from the panting form beneath him to the sight of his partner program’s form standing next to him, her helmet retracting as she gazed at Rinzler.    She released her hold on her partner’s wrist and stepped to the side.  Not a sound passed between them; however, when she turned her face towards the body trapped under the enforcer’s weight, Rinzler’s helmet turned to follow her gaze to his opponent’s arm.  They watched together as a crimson drop formed and dropped from the cut inflicted by Rinzler’s disc.  Rinzler’s helmet snapped back to the face of the opponent beneath his discs. 

               “User,” the security program growled out.  Nearby, a strange sound was heard as Feral’s glitch reacted.  She had an odd look on her face as she shook her head, as if she were trying to recall something from a damaged memory file. 

               Rinzler rose to his feet amidst the sound of boos and catcalls of the programs watching from the stands.  He dragged the User onto his feet to stand next to him, facing the viewing box of the command ship.  They stood, waiting, as Jarvis called down over the loudspeaker, “Identify yourself, program.” 

               The User called up, “I’m not a program.”

               The Grid’s leader stepped into view, and in a loud voice demanded, “Identify!”

               The User called back, “My name is Sam Flynn.”

               A few moments later, a group of BlackGuards entered the game cell.  “The Leader wants to see him,” one of the guards said.  Rinzler gave a brief nod to acknowledge the order; and stepped forward as two more of the guards reached out and gripped the User’s upper arms.  Rinzler led the group out of the cell and to the lift that would bring them to CLU.

The BlackGuards followed, dragging along a User who was muttering “What is it with you guys… Do you always drag people around like this?”  Feral followed the small group, keeping a cautious eye on the User as they walked.

 

***

 

It was not long before the group was standing before the door to CLU’s audience chamber.  The door opened with a slight ‘hiss’; revealing the waiting form of the sysadmin, his back to them as he gazed out of the large hexagonal window on the wall across from the door.  Two of the guards entered, a disgruntled User still held between them; followed closely by the dark, red-orange lit forms of Rinzler and Feral.  The User was belligerently demanding that the guards “Let me go…” so when they were half-way to where the Leader stood, the guards did; walking away to take their assigned places at the sides of the room.  Rinzler waited patiently with his head bowed, standing a step or two behind the User.  Near the door, stood the silent form of his partner.

The User glared at the guards as they walked away.  “Freaks,” he said.  Turning his attention to the gold lit figure standing at the window in front of him, he spoke again.  “Where am I?” he demanded.  “Am I on the grid?”  The helmeted and cloaked form of CLU turned to regard him.  “Who are you?” the User asked CLU, lifting his chin in defiance.  The gold circuited helmet retracted to reveal CLU, a small smile upon his face as he looked at the User standing there.   Outside the window, the rumbling of thunder heralded the approach of an oncoming storm, bright flashes of light flickering in to brighten the face of the User.  “Dad?” His voice was surprised, and he almost seemed unaware of having spoken.

“Sam,” CLU said, holding his arms out to his sides “look at you, man.  Look at the size of you.”  He clapped his hands to the User’s---Sam’s---shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before letting go and dropping his hands.   Around the room, programs continued to perform their functions or waited patiently to be needed….ignored by the two standing in the midst of them.   “How did you get in here?” he asked, still smiling.

“I got your message,” Sam said, wide-eyed, his voice a little soft and breathless from the shock of seeing what he thought was his father.

“Oh,” CLU said, thoughtfully.  “So it’s just you?” he asked, walking in a wide circle around Sam as he stood there.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, turning to keep CLU in his sight.

“Hhmm, just you.”  CLU continued to walk until he stood in front of Sam.  “Wow.  Isn’t this something?”

 “You look the same,” Sam told him, sounding uncertain as to if he were making a statement or asking a question.

               “Oh, a lot has happened, Sam, more than you can imagine.” His smile grew wider.   CLU held out a hand towards Rinzler.  “Disc,” he, said his voice dismissive of any other possibility than instant obedience.  He was not wrong.  Rinzler stepped forward and removed Sam’s disc, offering it to CLU with a small bow of his head.  “Let’s have a look,” CLU said, as he turned and walked a few steps, accessing Sam’s memories as he did so.  Some of the other programs in the room tried to see just what it was that had the Grid’s administrator so interested.

 

At the back of the room, Feral barely managed to suppress a shudder as she watched.  She hated having her disc accessed by another.  She turned her head to the side to hide a twitch that threatened to appear at any moment; remaining calm enough to control her glitch only with difficultly.  Her glitch reacting now would certainly attract the Leader’s attention, and the thought of his hands on her disc…   She took a deep breath, trying to empty her thoughts.   She would not do anything that would put her disc in CLU’s hands.  The only one that Feral could tolerate touching her disc was Rinzler.  Even CLU would not try to remove it himself any longer; usually ordering Rinzler to remove it if CLU wished to access it.  It had been shown too well in the past that anyone else doing so caused her to panic; and a panicked Feral was an unpredictable and extremely dangerous Feral.  She looked up, startled out of her thoughts by the shouts of the User.

 

“…is he!  What’d you do to him?!” Sam was shouting as guards half dragged, half shoved the struggling User through the now open door.  Rinzler was following the guards as they did so.  He nodded his head toward the door when Feral looked at him, indicating that she was to follow as well.

“The same thing I’m going to do to you,” CLU called back over his shoulder, already looking out the window again, his attention turning in another direction. “User.”

 

Just before the door closed behind them, CLU called back, “Rinzler, I want you and your partner to wait here.”  Rinzler and Feral looked at each other.  She tilted her head a little, her hand moving to indicate a wordless question. 

Orders, Rinzler signed back, and shifted his attention back from the User being led away.  Feral followed his example.  She would wait until she had further orders, going to standby function processes in the meantime.  They turned, and stepped back into the room to wait.

A short time later, CLU raised a hand and snapped his fingers to summon Jarvis to his side.  The lights shone off of Jarvis’ visor as the assistant program leaned closer to hear CLU’s words.  The rough murmur of them drifted back to where Feral stood waiting.  “—cycle grid; team him up with some of the rebels…the weaker ones.  I want to enjoy myself.”  Jarvis asked a question, his voice too low for her to make out.    “The usual; have Rinzler and Feral both on clean-up…in case it’s needed.”  Jarvis nodded his head and left, ready to implement the sysadmin’s orders.

 

“Rinzler, you will prepare for the lightcycle grid.  I want you and Feral ready to deal with any games violators.”  CLU ordered.  Rinzler bowed slightly, his distorted growl slightly louder as he did so.  The tall program turned and left to prepare for the upcoming lightcycle match, followed closely by the silent form of his partner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feral paced back and forth under the main entrance to the lightcycle grid, tapping her fingers against the baton on her thigh occasionally as she did so.  Every so often, she would glance up to watch the fireworks that bloomed in golden or pale bursts against the sky; or across the room to where her partner program waited patiently to see if they would be required.  She could hear the roar of the cheering crowd as Jarvis finished his introduction of the system administrator.  She rolled her eyes as she listened.  The idea that any program on the grid would not be able to identify the Leader was ridiculous, to say the least.   Trying to follow her main program’s example, Feral ignored both the sound of the programs in the stands; and the voices from the level above.  The match would begin in moments; and they would need to be ready at all times, without needing advance notice to do so.

The match had started.  On the level above where they waited, she could see the glow of activated light trails as the cycles went past in a blur of light and color, surrounding the dark gleam of code that carried programs into one of the most dangerous games on the grid.  In most of the games, a program only risked derezzing by their opponent.  Here, every moment courted the potential for disaster.  At the speeds that game required, any mistake, no matter how small or slight, could cause a program to fall…and derezz.  Or a User to derezz, if it came to that.  Given how poorly he had handled his disc, Feral did not have high expectations for the survival of this---Sam Flynn.   He would be lucky if he lasted long enough to face his end at CLU’s disc, and not simply end up destroyed on the arena floor because he could not stay on his lightcycle.

Much to her surprise, Sam Flynn was still active; somehow having evaded the efforts of the BlackGuards and CLU throughout the deresolution of not only the majority of his teammates, but also of most of the guards assisting CLU.   Feral watched as CLU’s gold light trail curved back towards the User.  It appeared that there would be no need for her and Rinzler during this match.  The two light trails came closer, and then the User’s disappeared with a splash of light.  She continued to watch as CLU turned back towards the last sight of the User’s location; only to draw back in surprise as another light trail blocked him, cutting off him off and breaking his trail. 

What had happened? 

Had CLU been injured?

 WHO HAD DONE THIS? 

The questions tumbled about in her mind, like loose pebbles in a hand; hitting against each other only to bounce off one question and hit another.  She was moving automatically, turning toward where her partner was already rezzing up his lightcycle.  The voice of the games announcer was declaring, “Illegal combatant on the Grid…system failure…release Rinzler,” as Feral swung her leg hurriedly over the back of Rinzler’s lightcycle.  He did not like how carrying two made a lightcycle more difficult to handle, due to the lack of dorsal code to join with his disc dock; and would never have tolerated any other program trying to do so.  Not that they would ever attempt to do so.  She was the only program that could ride double on a lightcycle; an adaptability feature caused by the inclusion of User code in her base coding.  However, she did not trust any program other than her partner to be able to control a lightcycle at game speeds.  Her hands had not even settled on his shoulders before Rinzler shot forward, leading two other members of the BlackGuard out to deal with the rules violator. 

They streaked forward, light trails already active behind them, under the crouching form of the Grid’s Leader; intent on capturing or destroying the intruder.  A picocycle later, and a shift of their weight caused the access plate to rotate; placing them on the upper level and only a short distance behind the fleeing lightrunner.  Ahead of them, the lightrunner sped towards the edge of the arena, carrying Sam Flynn and his unknown rescuer as out of CLU’s reach as fast as it could.  One of the BlackGuard, more eager than the other, pulled closer to the lightrunner, attempting to flank it and force the driver into making a mistake.  The mistake was the guard’s; the driver of the lightrunner swerved _closer_ instead, smashing into the guard’s lightcycle, causing both it and the guard to crash and derezz.  The lightrunner turned, followed closely by Rinzler and the second guard.  Feral rose up to crouch on the seat behind Rinzler, balanced on the balls of her feet, keeping herself in place with one hand as she reached for her baton.  When they grew just a little closer, Rinzler would swerve abruptly to the side, giving her the speed and momentum that she needed to throw herself out and rezz up her own cycle before derezzing against the arena floor.  Together, they would be able to catch the driver of the lightrunner by surprise in a pincer movement…trapping the lightrunner in a box created by their light trails.

 

That had been the plan…until the light grenades detonated directly in front of them, destroying the remaining guard and flinging both Feral and Rinzler into the air.  The two enforcers twisted and turned in midair, hands snatching batons from legs and rezzing up new lightcycles less than a picocycle before they would have become a collection of smashed pixels scattering across the arena floor to join with what little remained of the BlackGuards who had followed them onto the game grid.  The wheels of their lightcycles slammed against the arena floor, bringing them closer to the lightrunner and the escaping User that it carried.  The lightrunner was running out of room, the walls of the arena rising high in front of it.  Capture was imminent; the need to attempt deresolution of the Sam Flynn and his attempted rescuer diminishing steadily. 

Until the lightrunner fired at the arena wall, blasting a hole in the wall big enough for escape.  It would not stop Rinzler; only change the nature of his orders.  If capture seemed unlikely, he would destroy the lightrunner and its passengers.  Any other program would be forced to admit defeat if the lightrunner made it past the arena wall and off of the Grid into the Outlands, but the two enforcers always carried batons that were coded for off-Grid, as well as on-Grid, usage.  Whoever was helping Sam Flynn would be caught off guard by the unexpected maneuver, and Rinzler would derezz them both.  Feral glanced over at her partner, his form intent on the fleeing lightrunner.  She had not stopped Rinzler from derezzing the User in disc wars, only for him to do so now.  If needed, she would have ended the runtimes of the two that fled from them on her own…but Rinzler must not do so.  Somehow, she simply knew that he must not.  And she would not be able to catch the lightrunner on her own now that it was going off-Grid .

 

Putting on a burst of speed, she pushed her lightcycle past Rinzler’s, the look on her face grimly determined.   When Feral had pulled far enough ahead, she wrenched her cycle to the side, blocking the blasted hole that the lightrunner had driven through a mere moment earlier as she powered down her lightcycle, cutting her partner off from following. 

Rinzler pulled up short, his lightcycle skidding up to her in a controlled slide.  The security program looked past her, to where the lightrunner had cleared the ravine that separated the Grid from the Outlands; before the sharp angles of his helmet turned towards her.  Feral looked back; her blank, black helmet revealing nothing…even to the program that knew her best.  Rinzler powered up his lightcycle, jerking his head at his accessory program in an unmistakable command to follow as he began to return to where the sysadmin waited for them to report back to him.  No doubt CLU would demand his own explanations of her actions.

 

***

 

They were brought to CLU as soon as they reached the throne ship.  He was waiting for them in his viewing box, looking out the window over the arena his hands clasped together behind his back.

“They escaped,” he said, still looking out in the direction that the fleeing lightrunner had taken.  He turned to were his enforcers waited, walking towards them.  “You, “  CLU continued, his voice sounding almost amused, as though there was some joke that only he knew, “ ** _let_** them escape.”  He looked at Feral as he spoke again, his voice dangerously soft.  “Tell me, Feral, why would you do so?” 

Only silence answered him from behind the darkness of her helmet. 

“I can’t hear you,” CLU told her.  “Remove the helmet and try again.  Why did you let them escape?”  There was a small smile on his face as he gave the order.

Feral’s helmet retracted soundlessly from around her face.  Her lips moved, as if to answer, but nothing could be heard. 

“What was that?  Look at me and tell me,” the administrator’s voice suddenly grew to a roar, “…exactly **_WHY_** _**you would LET them escape**_?”

 

Her head flew up at the question, a hard look of defiance in her eyes as she did so.  Slowly, with exaggerated motions, Feral mouthed out her answer.

“You and Rinzler were under orders to deal with any game violators.  He followed his orders.  You did not.  In fact, you kept your main program from following orders.  The only conclusion that I can come to is that you must have damaged your coding, somehow.”  He held out his hand.  “Give me your disc.”

She froze, her face expressionless at the order.  There was a hard blow, as the back of a hand crashed against her face.    The same hand reached up and grabbed the collar around her neck, preventing her from moving out of reach.  “I am only saying this one more time.  Give me your disc.  I am going to go over your code until I find and repair whatever it is that caused you to act in this fashion.”  The hold on the collar was released as CLU waited to see if she complied with the order.

She reached back to where her disc rested, secure in its dock; only to have her hand halt before it was near enough to touch.  No.  She could not do this; she could not put her disc into CLU’s hands.  She tried to force herself to do so; only to find herself cringing inside at the thought of completing the ordered function.  The sysadmin continued to stare at her; a cold, cruel smile on his face as he waited.  Once again, Feral tried to command herself to give her disc to the Leader; only to have her systems lock up.  Her eyes went wide as she tried to fight down her panic; a voice singing past a pulsing beat in the room as she lost control of her glitch. 

‘Somebody help me through this nightmare…I can’t control myself’ the voice sang as Feral began to tremble uncontrollably.  A fact that did not go unnoticed by CLU, who pushed closer and said…

“You’re glitching again, Feral.  Do I need to check your disc while you are still running active processes?”  He started to reach out to touch her, only to find a dark, rumbling form blocking him.  CLU’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sight.   “Is there a problem, Rinzler?” he asked.  The rumbling, distorted growl was quieter, yet still present.  Stepping back, CLU sighed.  “I don’t have time for this, man,” he said.  “There’s too much to do.  Alright.  Take her with you, for now, and organize patrols.  I want the User found.”  He turned back to the window, apparently already occupied with other thoughts.  The two enforcers began walking to the door, only to stop as the administrator called back to them.

 

“Feral.  I _WILL_ be checking your disc, when this has been settled.” 

 

She stiffened at his words, then continued to walk out of the door; refusing to look back as she did so.   When the door had closed, cutting them off from CLU’s view, her partner turned to her; catching her arm to focus her attention on him.  His hand moved in a gesture, only one word--- Why? 

Feral did not even pretend that she did not understand his question.  Her fingers moved swiftly, telling him, “Because---you must not.”  Rinzler’s head tilted at her as though debating whether or not to require her to elaborate on her answer.  His growl rattled loudly for a moment, then subsided to its usual low pitch.  He shrugged, and continued to walk down the corridor.  She stood, staring at him for a moment, and then hurried to catch up.

 

 

 

 

 

              

               They had been waiting for a few pectrocycles before the patrols found anything useful.  Finally, however, a patrol on the edge of the city had reported a lightcycle used by Kevin Flynn having been seen.  CLU had been notified that the Guard had managed to track the lightcycle back to its point of origin; Kevin Flynn’s hiding place.  The administrator had left to investigate the find; taking Rinzler with him as well.  Feral had been left to continue the search in the city itself.  Any further sightings of a User would be reported to her for to deal with as needed.

 

 

               Feral was irritated; patrols had sent back the information that the User had abandoned the lightcycle to another program well before it had been found.  Not even Rinzler would have been able to obtain a trace to follow. 

               And the patrols might as well not be searching the city, with the complete lack of information that they had compiled so far.  Organizational programs worked quietly around her, trying to avoid making themselves targets for her angry glare.  She was not known for taking out her irritation on others; however, who was willing to risk it, with one of the Grid’s most dangerous programs?

               A data courier program came running up to her quickly.  “It’s the User,” the program blurted out excitedly, “He’s been reported at the End of Line club, coded transmission.”  Feral nodded, moving quickly to send out orders to have a patrol sent out in a recognizer.  They would fly in to avoid alerting the User.  She sent a request back along the coded transmission packet; asking for greater information as to which User and where in the club he was located.  No sooner had she encoded the request than Feral headed to the recognizer herself, moving at a run.

 

               The End of Line club.  The requested information had come to her as the recognizer drew closer to the roof of the tower that housed the club; sent directly by Castor, the club’s manager.  Who, she thought privately, was a scheming little double-dealer.  No doubt Castor would try to leverage his supplying information into a favor from CLU.  Personally, the thought of the club manager suffering a system crash when he found that the Leader expected such information to be given freely, cheered Feral’s millicycle. 

               Castor had taken the User up to his private lounge, and made assurances that the stairs program would be retracted; hopefully keeping the User trapped there until his capture.   Exactly which Flynn it was had not been made clear.  It did not matter, though; if it was not Kevin Flynn, then the administrator would force Kevin Flynn to trade his disc for Sam Flynn.   Feral sent out orders to the BlackGuards that would be dropping into the club with wingpacks.  Absolutely no deresolutions of Users or any program that appeared to be closely connected with the Users.  Capture only was allowed.  Flynn was to remain functioning until CLU had custody of his disc; and programs connected to the Users could be useful in forcing cooperation. 

               Above all, the User must not escape.

 

               The club was chaos defined.  When the guards had crashed through the skylight on the roof, the fools had completely failed to land on the manager’s lounge level.  Instead, their entrance had caused a riot to start; _and_ inciting rebels that had been in the club at the time to attack.  In the midst of this, the User had unexpectedly departed the lounge---by leaping from it to the lower level.  And was met by an ISO.  As if this had not made the task of capturing the User and the ISO that had joined him difficult enough; the idiots seemed intent on destroying both the User and ISO.  Even that showy excuse of an entertainment program had gotten it the act; firing randomly at the crowd below in general and the User in particular.  Thank the Grid that _she_ landed on the lounge level and had knocked Castor’s cane up and out of the way before he derezzed the User.

               Honestly, what was so hard to understand about orders that read, ‘Capture only’? Now, she had to deal with a riot; a User that was fighting better than expected; and an ISO that had just been damaged, likely to the point of derezzing before Feral could bring her to CLU.  The only useful thing that had come from this debacle was that the ISO’s injury was distracting the User from fighting further.

               A jolt of power pushed through the club; pulsing through every program that was present and silencing the music from the MP3’s that had been dj-ing moments before.  All eyes were drawn to the dark robed figure that knelt, head lowered, with one hand on the floor.  The hooded head lifted to reveal the face of the Grid’s Creator, Kevin Flynn. With that single move, what Feral had been certain was the definition of chaos earlier, was found to be mild disorder in comparison to what was occurring now.  She watched as most of her remaining squad members found themselves being derezzed by programs that were now joining the conflict, fighting with new-found faith in Users. 

               The Users themselves seemed oblivious to what was going on around them; their attention fixed on escaping with the ISO.  Sam Flynn led the way towards the elevator, carrying the ISO in his arms as Kevin Flynn followed close behind them.  Feral made her way to the elevator shaft, planning to lock down the elevator with a security override as soon as the door closed.  If necessary, she would have the elevator pulled out and brought aboard the recognizer to keep the Users in custody.  She would not allow them to escape this time.  CLU would find her tasklist completed when he and Rinzler returned.

               And then it happened.  A mere picocycle before the elevator doors closed, the last remaining BlackGuard of the squad managed to snare Kevin Flynn’s disc…the master disc that CLU had wanted---needed--- for so long… with his grapple, an accomplishment that she approved of heartily; and then flung a grenade at the elevator.

 

               If she had the vocal processes to scream, she would have done so from the sheer frustration that washed through her at the sight.  Frag it….what part of ‘Capture---no derezzing’…was so difficult to read?!

 

               Feral flung herself through the door to the elevator shaft that she had opened in preparation for locking down the elevator; landing with a thud on the roof of the elevator car as it fell.  Snatching her disc from her back, she slammed it into the roof of the car; lodging it tightly enough in the coding of the roof to allow her to remain crouched in place.  There had not been enough time for her to rezz up her helmet, and now she did not dare to activate it and risk having the concentration that was required to maintain her position slip.  A strange, wild exultation filled her as the wind created by the fall screamed past, whipping strands of her hair loose from where it had been fastened up on her head.  Had anyone been able to see her at that moment, they would have run; frightened away by the teeth bared in a savage grin and the untamed light that filled her eyes. 

               **_This_** was what she had been coded for.  She would not flee; would not try to find a way off of the falling elevator.  If the Users could stop the fall, she would be waiting when they did so.  If they were unable to do so…her function would have been fulfilled with their destruction.  What happened to her seemed unimportant in comparison.                

 

 

               It seemed that her faith in the Users’ abilities had not been misplaced.  First one, and then another of the gates opened in time to allow the falling elevator to pass.  As it neared the base of the tower, the falling car seemed to slow slightly.  It then came to an abrupt stop with a thud.  She pulled her disc free of the elevator’s code; waiting to see if the Users would try to leave the elevator car.  Inside, she could hear the two Users speaking to each other, voices raised in worry and frustration.  She tensed as she waited above the door; preparing to deal with whoever left the elevator.

 

***

               Sam Flynn stepped out of the elevator, Quorra held in his arms.  A short distance ahead of him, his father was looking up at what Sam could only guess he had been referring to when he spoke of ‘hopping a freight train’; which Sam had done when he was still in his first year of college.  He hoped that this went smoother than that particular escapade had; as that evening had ended in a call to Alan to send bail money, a cracked rib, and a friend still would not talk to him after spending the night in jail.  Jim’s parents had not proven to be as understanding of the need for bail as Alan was.   He moved forward, heading after his dad. 

               He had not gone more than a few steps in his dad’s direction when he heard a dull ‘thump’ behind him; as if something heavy had fallen.  Sam turned to look over his shoulder to see what had fallen; only to have his gaze drawn to the figure that was rising from where she crouched on the ground in front of the elevator.  It was one of CLU’s programs from the club.  Somehow, she had managed to survive riding the elevator car down with them as the elevator fell.  As the program rose to her full height, her activated disc in her hand, he realized that it was the enforcer program that had stopped Rinzler from killing him in disc wars…and then come after him herself on a lightcycle.   And from the look of that disc, she had no problem with Sam being killed here and now.  He swallowed and tried to set Quorra down gently, but quickly.  It ended up more like dropping Quorra; but if he tried to fight this program with his hands full, they would both be dead.  “Dad,” he called, hoping that his father could at least move Quorra to safety. 

                The enforcer came closer, for all her small stature moving like a big cat stalking its prey, all deadly grace and controlled violence.  There was a dull, throbbing beat---‘like German Haus music,’ he thought; wondering how it was he could think of that in this situation--- that surrounded her as she smiled at him.  For some reason, the confidence in that smile made Sam more nervous than the spinning disc that hummed in her hand.  Oh, who was he trying to fool?  Seeing her smiling at him like that, she **_scared_** him.  It was as though she was having _fun_  thinking of all of the ways that she would take him apart.

 “Dad!” Sam yelled again, “Get Quorra!”  And then she was there, her disc swinging through the air on its way to where his head had been less than a second earlier.  He stumbled back, trying to duck away from her even as he reached for his own disc and rezzed up his helmet.   The disc sliced at him again, coming closer this time.  Sam drove his disc at her, doing his best to drive her back, away from where Quorra lay on the ground behind him.  That smile grew wider…shifting the edge of a scar that crossed her face. 

In a move that reminded him of his last disc battle, the enforcer slid backward; somehow managing to turn the dodge into a backflip that brought her disc up to deflect Sam’s…right before her foot caught him in the face, knocking him off of his feet.  Sam struggled to a kneeling position just in time to block her disc as the warrior spun on her feet, bringing her disc into play.  While he had managed to block her disc, it did not stop her from landing another solid blow to his head with her free hand.  Even with his helmet, the force of the blow rocked him back, stunning him for half of a second.  He looked up, knowing he would be unable to move in time to save himself.  As if in slow motion, he watched as the program pulled back her disc, readying it for the final strike that would finish him off.   Behind him he could hear his dad’s voice, yelling, “NO!” as what felt like a sudden, silent crash of thunder boomed out, rolling past and _through him,_ somehow.  In front of him, the program stiffened, her eyes rolling up until only the whites could be seen; then fell to the ground in a heap.

 

Sam stared at the crumpled form in front of him in shock, jumping when a hand touched his shoulder.  He looked up into the worried eyes of his father.

“You okay there, man?” his dad asked him.

“Yeah, he answered, his voice somewhat shaky.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  How’s Quorra?”

“Still stable, but we need to move.  They’ll be coming to check out what just happened soon.”

“Dad,” Sam said, “what exactly _did_ just happen?  There was a…a…I don’t know _what_ … and now she’s just _lying_ there…and---“

“Whoa, the enforcer program?  She didn’t derezz?” his father interrupted, surprise in his voice. 

“See for yourself,” Sam said pointing at the still figure a few steps away.  His dad turned to look, muttering ‘should have derezzed from that’ to himself as he did so.

Sam stood up, holding in a groan as he did so.  He would smile through every bruise and ache he had tomorrow; as long as he was able to do so in his own place, sitting on the couch eating cheeseburgers with Marv.  “What was that, anyhow?” he asked, as his dad went to look over the enforcer.

“Hhmm?  Oh, User power,” his dad replied; turning the program over and looking at her face as he did so.

“Well, why didn’t you just do that in the club, then?”  Sam questioned, gathering Quorra up into his arms and turning back to face his father. 

“Couldn’t,” his dad told him.  “Took a lot out of me just to stop her; I wouldn’t have been able to do anything against that many guards.  Except, maybe get us all killed.”

“What are you doing?” His father was pulling the program’s arms, using them to tug her up and over his shoulder.  The program hung limply over his dad’s back; some of her hair falling loose to hang down along with her arms. 

“Bringing her with us,” Sam was told.  “That pulse should have derezzed her.  It didn’t.  If we don’t take her with us, then when they find her they will be able to check her and learn where we are going.”  His dad started walking toward the waiting---what-ever that thing was called---as quickly as possible.  Holding Quorra just a little tighter, Sam followed.

A few moments later, they were all on board what his dad had told him was a ‘solar sailer’, and it was moving out along the beam. 

Sam settled Quorra on her back, careful not to jar her as he did so.  He had no idea what would hurt her more in this condition, and was worried that he had injured her further when he had dropped her to fight.  He looked up, searching for his father, only to see him bent over CLU’s enforcer.  “What are you doing?” he asked, curious.  “Can you check on Quorra now?”

               “I will look at Quorra in just a moment, Sam,” his father said with a slight grunt, not looking up.  “Need to make sure that this one,” he said, never looking away from the program at his feet, “can’t get loose and cause us trouble when she reboots.” 

               He rose a moment later and walked the short distance to join Sam where he knelt beside the Quorra.  Carefully, they removed her disc, the elder Flynn accessing her code to assess the damage.

               His dad carefully pulled up layers of Quorra’s coding; searching for the damaged portions of her code.  Sam held her disc level for him as he worked, his dad’s hands rotating and shifting code to get a better view. 

               “Is she gonna make it?” Sam asked.

               “I don’t know,” his father replied, intent on the code in front of him.  “I’ve got to identify the damaged code.  The sequencing is just enormously complex.”  There was another flick of the fingers, and yet another layer of code appeared.

               “But didn’t you write it?” Sam asked him, a little confused.

               He watched as his father let out a short chuckle.  “Some of it,” his dad replied, “The rest of it is just…” another twist and flick and code swirled up from the disc; resembling nothing as much as a DNA strand from high school bio class to Sam’s mind.  “beyond me,” his dad continued, gazing at the sight.

               Sam looked up at his father’s face, realization setting in.  “She’s an ISO,” he said, looking back at where the damaged code shone an angry red-gold within the spiral.

               “Yeah.  The last ISO,” his dad told him.

               He looked down at Quorra’s unseeing gaze and spoke.  “All this time you were just ...protecting her,” Sam said.

               “She’s the miracle, man,” Sam’s father said.  “Everything I ever worked for.”  Kevin Flynn looked down at the ISO lying between them.  He looked back up, smiling up into Sam’s face.  “A digital frontier to reshape the human condition.”

               Sam gave a short snort.  “I always thought that was just a plug line,” he admitted.

               “In our world, she could change everything,” his father said, his attention once again focused on Quorra’s disc as he began to try to remove the damaged code.  “Yeah,” he said, under his breath as the damaged code was slowly pulled free.  Giving a small laugh, his dad held the code up in his fingertips to show Sam.  “Check that out,” he said, proudly.  Opening his fingers, the code transformed into what looked to Sam like a moth, and fluttered away.  The two of them smiled, watching as it disappeared into the darkness of the Grid.

               Sam looked back at Quorra, his expression serious again.  “She risked herself for me,” he said quietly.

               “Some things are worth the risk,” his dad told him, looking at Sam as he spoke.  He closed the files on Quorra’s disc, reattaching it to her disc dock as Sam carefully held her on her side.  Together, they gently laid her back down.  “Look at this,” Kevin said, watching as Quorra’s self-repair functions came online, beginning to reassemble her arm.  “Now, that is impressive if I do say so myself.  Huh?”  He reached out and patted Sam on the shoulder.  “Come on, it’s gonna take a while for her system to reboot.  Now it’s time for you to tell me a story.”  Sam smiled and stood to join his father, who was already walking towards the railing.

 

***

 

               It takes less time than he would have expected, and yet there is not enough time to tell it all.  How could there be?  How could Sam ever be able to sum up twenty years of not having him there, to his father?  The frustration, the anger, the loneliness….the pain of not knowing; of wondering why his father had left with no word.  He had been convinced of that, as the years had passed.  After all, he had thought if his dad had been killed or injured, there would have been _something_ found, eventually.  And now, the truth was far more unbelievable than he would have ever imagined.  His dad had not wanted to leave; he had tried to come back to Sam.  And the pain in his dad’s voice when his dad asks about Mac and Gram can’t be hidden. 

               They talk more, about the Grid; and the sadness in his father’s voice as he tells Sam that he would have given it all up, all of it, is a balm to an ache in Sam’s heart that he has spent years denying existed, even to himself.

               He can’t stand to hear his dad in pain, thinking about lost time; so instead Sam tells his dad about how he is fixing up the old Ducati.  They are able to laugh again, a little, and his dad smiles at him as they do. 

               “Here,” his dad tells him, fishing in his pocket for a vial that he hands to Sam.  “She’s rebooting.  Give her this.”  He glances over to where he had left the enforcer earlier and said, “I’m gonna check on our ‘guest’ and see what I can find out.  Maybe the old man will go knock on the sky afterwards, listen to the sound.”  Sam watches as his dad turns and begins walking back to the other program; which he can see glaring at them from where she lays with her hands and feet bound behind her back.

 

***

               Feral looked up at the older User walking to where she lay on the deck of the solar sailer.  This must be the Grid’s Creator, Kevin Flynn.  She had never seen him during her runtime; CLU had coded her after taking over the system.  He came closer until he could squat on his heels in front of her. 

               “You are one tough little program,” he told her, the amusement in his voice unfazed by the angry glare she shot him.  “Any other program would have derezzed from getting hit with a power surge like that.”  Kevin looked at her, curiously, “How come you’re still functioning?”

               She let out an angry breath, and turned away, trying to ignore him.  Behind her back, she twisted her wrists; doing her best to either loosen her bonds or damage the code that made them.  Feral could hear the User moving closer. 

               “Well, if you don’t feel like talking…”

               Feral turned her head to look the User in the eye.  Not feel like talking?  She decided to take advantage of the moment.  Maybe her vocal processes were silent, but that would not stop her from being able to tell him what she thought of the entire situation.   Smiling bitterly, Feral began to form the words with her mouth; shaping them carefully on the off chance that Users could read a program’s words on their face the way they could read binary text.  Oh, she felt like talking.  She told him about how she had been coded by CLU to be Rinzler’s accessory program; after CLU had needed to take over the Grid.  She told him about the unrest, the rebel programs that she had fought; needless battles caused by Flynn hiding away instead of meeting with CLU to deal with the system, together.   

               The blue eyes of Flynn watched her for a while as she did so before he spoke, interrupting her silent rant.  “Huh.  I’m guessing that it’s more a matter of you _can’t_ talk, isn’t it?”  He leaned towards her saying, “No problem, I’ll just check your disc and fix that real quick…” as he reached for her disc.

               Her eyes widening, Feral jerked away from the hand that reached out to her; trying to move further out of reach despite having her limbs bound behind her.  No…not even this User could be trusted with her disc.  She looked up at CLU’s eyes staring at her from a face that still resembled the system administrator’s and shook her head vehemently.

               “It’s okay,” he told her, “I just need to ask you some questions.  You answer them, and we’ll leave you unharmed when we go.”  Moving quickly, he grabbed her arm and flipped her onto her stomach.  Panicked at the thought of someone other than herself or Rinzler touching her disc; Feral thrashed franticly until Flynn finally straddled her lower back, sitting on her to hold her down long enough to remove the disc from its dock.

               “Calm down,” he told the program who had rolled back onto her side and now watched him, breathing hard, with fearful eyes.  Odd eyes, for a program; he mused.  He’d never met one with what looked like hazel eyes before.  “I’m just going to enable your vocal processes.”  He accessed the data on her disc, frowning slightly at the incredibly dense amounts of code.  It looked complex, at first; but most of it could be broken down into a much simpler, if completely unidentifiable repeating lines of code.  Whatever programming language they were written in was unknown, and made no sense to him at all.  Much easier to identify were overlays and upgrades for things like combat coding and what looked like a partition filter separating damaged and degraded memory files.  Tucked in next to an upgrade for her physical render, was a block for her vocal processes.  For some reason, she had been rendered mute.

               It only took a moment to remove the block, which had CLU’s coding style.  Now, that was familiar to see, as it was essentially a reflection of his programming style.  He frowned down at the disc in his hand; certain that he was failing to see something important, somehow.  He gave his head small shake and closed the disc’s data.  Flynn looked back at the wary program in front of him.  “Okay, let’s put this back where it belongs, shall we?”

                      The effort that she had exerted earlier to keep him away from her disc was nothing compared to what she used now to keep him from replacing it.  Finally he was able to get her disc re-docked.

               “Ow! I am trying to help; I haven’t done anything to your disc that will hurt you.”  Kevin pulled back, rubbing at his bitten calf as the trapped program’s eyes flashed; signaling the sync that had started when he had finally gotten her disc back into place.  “I should have just asked Sam to help,” he muttered under his breath, waiting for a sign that the sync had finished loading.

 

              

               Feral blinked as her systems finished re-syncing with her disc.  It felt…odd, yet familiar.  She shook her head, and twisted herself until she was partially upright to look at the User that had gone back to kneeling on the deck in front of her again.  Taking a chance that he had only repaired her vocal processes like he had said; she opened her mouth to try to speak.

               “What…?” The voice, while quiet, seemed strangely loud and startling to her ears.

               “What did I do?” Flynn asked, finishing the question in her mind.  “You had a block on your vocals,” he said, shrugging.  “I just took it off.”

               “A block.”  Feral laughed, and it sounded hollow even to her ears.  “I should have guessed.  How very like you.”

               “Hey now, I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he protested.  “That was CLU’s work, not mine.”

               She gave him a look that said she thought he was fooling himself; as plainly as if she had spoken it out loud.

               “Didn’t you?” she asked.  “Doing something to keep someone from speaking---from communicating---is spiteful, User.  Programs wouldn’t have such feelings if not for their Users.  After all, animals don’t.  It’s the human part of the coding equation.  You write a program, you put yourselves into it.  This…all of this…is as much your work as it is CLU’s.”  While her voice was calm enough, there was no hiding the hot anger in her eyes as she spoke.  Feral struggled to get further upright until she knelt as best as was possible with her wrists fastened behind her to her ankles.

               “I never wanted this,” Flynn said, shocked at the implied accusation in what she had said.  “If I could have known; if there had been anyway to avoid this, or stop it when it started….I would have done so.  I didn’t cause this.  I mean, come on, this system was my baby; I tried to take care of it like I did Sam.”

               “Your son?” she questioned.  Feral sighed at the answering nod that she was given.  “Then I feel sorry for both of your children; for what you did to them.”

               “Now hold on, I didn’t do anything to…”

               “No,” she interrupted.  “You didn’t.  You may not have been abusive; however, you are just as bad as the absentee father who only shows up when he wants to, when it’s _fun_.  You aren’t paying attention to what is happening every day, the little problems that build up until something, or someone, breaks.”  Feral gave him a steady look, one that was both angry and yet oddly pitying.  “Why were you surprised by what happened?  CLU took over because he felt he had to…..do you even understand what you did to them?”

               Kevin stumbled to his feet, backing away from the enforcer as though she were free and about to attack him.  His face was pale as he looked down at her where she waited; still bound and just about as helpless as she could be made.  “Who are you,” he asked her, his voice hoarse and unbelieving.  “ _What_ are you?  Programs don’t know about animals and absentee fathers.  They call us Users, not humans.  **_WHAT ARE YOU_**?”

               “Program designation: Feral.  Primary Objective: Accessory program to security program, designation: Rinzler.  Current function status: Security, Active.”

               “Who coded you?”

               “CLU.”

               “No, that’s not right; that’s impossible.  CLU can’t write a program, he can only rewrite existing ones.  He had to have gotten your code from somewhere…where did he get it from?”

               Feral tilted her head up to get a better look at him.  “Couldn’t you tell?” she asked him.  “It’s User coding; with some of Rinzler’s upgraded and overlaid.  I was told that it began as yours.”

               She watched as the User stared at her; the expression on his face that of someone who had just been told that their code was corrupted and would end their runtime.  He took a step back, then another, and another; looking as though he would have run if it had been possible.  The User shook his head, as though in denial of what she had said; and walked away, looking as if something had broken inside of him.

               A few moments later, Sam Flynn made his way to her.  “What did you say to him?” he demanded. 

               “The truth,” she said, simply.

               “About what?”

               “About who I am… and about CLU.”

               “The truth is that CLU is a monster.  And so is that tame killer of his, Rinzler,” Sam said angrily.

               “You don’t know anything about Rinzler,” Feral spat at him, furious at the way he was passing judgment on her partner.  “He’s not a monster.”

               “Really?  Exactly how do you figure that?” Sam demanded of her.

               “Because if Rinzler was really a monster, like you think, you would be deleted now,” she told him, her voice hot with anger.  “He would have derezzed you in disc wars as soon as I showed him what you are, User.”  The last word was practically hissed out at him.  “My designation is Feral; and I will not let you speak about my main program that way.”

               “You didn’t seem to have any problem with killing me yourself,” he said, accusingly.

               “Perhaps I am the monster, then,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as much as possible while restrained in such a fashion.

 Sam gave her another angry look before turning and walking away.  It looked like if he wanted to learn what this program---Feral---had said to upset his dad he would need to ask Dad.

Feral watched as the User went back to watching the ISO, apparently waiting for her to finish rebooting.  When it seemed that no one was paying attention to her any longer, she returned to trying to free herself from the bonds that restrained her.  She needed to get free so she could complete her tasklist.

 

*************************************************************************************

 

               A while later, she looked up, surprised to see a recognizer pass near them.  It moved on past them; bringing her attention to the reddish lights that grew brighter as they neared it.  The Recompiler.  Feral had not known that CLU had ordered it moved this close to the portal.  If the Recompiler was here, then most likely so was CLU himself. 

Further along the deck, the Users had also seen what was ahead, and the cry of “Get below!” was heard.  Footsteps rattled the deck as they ran.  Sam Flynn stopped and looked at her, still bound and unable to free herself.

               “You can come with us, you know,” he offered.  “You don’t have to stay with Rinzler.”

               “And you can interface with some fixed code,” she replied pleasantly.  Feral could see the ISO where she stood behind the User, her eyes widening at the crude phrase.

“Fine,” Sam said, “Stay here and be a monster’s pet.”

Feral’s eyes narrowed at his words.  “You know, I could make some recommendations for that interfacing.  There are some lovely rock formations in the Outlands that I know of…”

 “Not even had her voice for an hour and already she’s got a mouth on her,” Sam muttered under his breath.

               The elder Flynn’s voice was heard again.  “Move!” he shouted, herding them below the deck, out of Feral’s line of sight.

 

               They were leaving.  If no one was alerted to their presence, the Users and ISO would escape.  She renewed her efforts to free herself; grimly determined to damage the code on her restraints to the breaking point.  She needed to find Rinzler.  Right now, it looked like that meant she would need to find CLU.   No doubt her partner would still be with the Leader.

               Feral growled with frustration as she continued to work against her bonds, sounding surprisingly like Rinzler when she did so.  This code was damaged, she insisted to herself.  It would only take a little more work before the damage caused the restraints to derezz.  It was merely a matter of time.

               She was still surprised when it occurred, feeling sections of her bonds beginning to crumble.  She strained harder, increasing the code damage to speed its failure.  Moments later, she was up and moving; searching for signs of the Users and the ISO as she made her way from the loading dock to the lifts that would take her to the command decks.  CLU and Rinzler would most likely be found there.  If she reached them in time, there was still an opportunity to capture the trio.

 

               It did not take long to locate CLU and her partner once Feral accessed the command levels.  CLU was in a room that he had long since set aside for meetings with upper-echelon staff and military commanders.  The look of surprise on his face when CLU saw her was eclipsed by the look of shock he wore when she spoke.

               “The Users are here,” she said.  “The ISO is with them.”

               “You know this how?” CLU asked his voice smooth, as if to try to make up for his earlier surprise.

               “I was on the same solar sailer that they took to get here,” Feral hedged, watching as the sysadmin program came closer to where she stood.  She glanced over to where her partner stood nearby; apparently waiting to see what would be needed before acting.  When she looked up, CLU was standing so close that she could clearly see each hair of the faint stubble on his face.

               “More than that happened,” he said as he leaned in close to her face, his weight resting on the hand he placed on the wall above her head.  “Didn’t it?”

               “Yes,” Feral bit out, trying not to show the unease she felt at his nearness.

               “You’re talking…and not with those signals you and Rinzler use.  How did that happen, I wonder?”

               “Kevin Flynn….”

CLU’s eyebrows rose at the name.  “Oh? And how is it that he was that close to you, and yet is not in your custody now?”

               “They…I was captured,” she admitted.

               “They captured you.  And made you a little less perfect, as well.”  CLU straightened with a sigh.  “As if that glitch of yours was not imperfection enough.  It’s hard to believe that so many User-style MP3 files still exist,” he said under his breath, walking towards the center of the room .  “At least this can be remedied easily enough.”  CLU turned to the tall program that had been watching, his growl stuttering out softly into the room.

               “Rinzler, bring me her disc,” he said as he settled himself on one of the couches that occupied the room.

               “The Users…” Feral blurted out, uneasy at the thought of her disc being accessed yet again.

               “We have the master key,” CLU said with a little smile.  “They won’t be going anywhere.”  He motioned with his hand to Rinzler, impatient for her disc.

               “But…”

               “Don’t you want to be more perfect, Feral?” he asked.  “More like my perfect Rinzler?”

               Rinzler was already behind her, reaching for her disc.  She shifted on her feet, not wanting the administrator to touch her disc yet unwilling to do otherwise when her partner accepted the need for updates as valid.  There was pressure and a soft ‘click’ as her disc was lifted free from her dock with gentle hands.  Those same hands carried her disc and placed it into CLU’s outstretched hand.  Feral looked away while her code was opened, unwilling to watch as it was rifled through and the block replaced.  In far less time than it had taken for Kevin Flynn to merely locate the block, she was hearing the order given to Rinzler to replace her disc.

               Again, the familiar presence of her partner behind her; the comforting sound of his distorted growl rumbling as he re-docked her disc.  There was the jolt as she synced with her disc, the feeling of lag as the update applied to her processes; followed by the sense of loss as her vocals no longer read as active.  Feral ignored the sensation.  After all, she had been improved.  Rinzler did all of the speaking for them…and the rarity of speech used by him showed how just how little such processes were worth.

               She looked back over her shoulder to see her partner standing behind her, his hands still on her disc.  His hands slid from her disc, Rinzler’s left hand stroking over her shoulder blade in a reassuring gesture before he stepped away to stand, ready for whatever orders he received next.

               It was not long.  He had barely settled into his default stance, ready for whatever might be needed, before it came. 

               “Rinzler,” CLU ordered, “Find out where the Users last location was noted, and track them down.  I want them found…all of them.  You,” he said, nodding his head at Feral as she stood there. “Go notify the guards that the Users on the Recompiler.  Organize them and start search applications.  When you have finished, I want you to go upstairs…keep an eye on the Flynn’s disc.”

               Feral gave a quick nod of assent, and went to complete her ordered tasks.

 

*******

 

               Feral can hear CLU’s voice, giving his speech to the troops, as she sends the guards out to run search applications.  It sounds inspiring enough, and yet, for some reason it makes her furious to hear it.  Thankfully the other programs seem to be ignoring the sound of her glitch manifesting for the moment; and she rapidly made her way upstairs, willing it back to silence.  Some microcycles, she thinks that Rinzler understands why it occurs; however, if he does he has not considered if important enough to explain.  None of this will matter soon.  Rinzler will apprehend the Users and ISO, and CLU will lead them into the User world.  Rinzler will follow CLU into this new system, this new world; and she will follow her partner.

 

               The alarm sounded moments before she reached the main control room.  The small access door in front of Feral slid open, and she lifted her head to just in time to see the ISO kick Rinzler in the chest; catching the security program in the chest and knocking him off of the lift platform, his discs flashing in the light of circuits and coding as they tumble away into the darkness to splash into the Sea.  Ignoring the ISO who had regained her feet, and the User who was moving her way; Feral flung herself down on the platform’s edge, reaching out for the program that was barely clinging to a thin ridge of coding below the platform.  She strained to reach him, one arm stretched behind her to anchor herself as she leaned even further over the edge to grasp Rinzler’s wrist.  Feral’s fingers wrapped around him, and she gritted her teeth as his weight pulled at her as Rinzler pulled himself up to the edge of the platform.  With a deft move, he twisted himself until he could flip up, landing in a crouch on the platform.

               It was too late.  Sam Flynn and the ISO had escaped; crashing through the window with a wingpack to land in the hanger below.  Feral shot a disgusted look at the sysadmin’s assistant program, Jarvis, identifying him as a useless bootlicker who had done _nothing_ to either stop the User or assist her partner. 

               Less than a nanocycle later, CLU arrived.  The administrator strode angrily into the control room followed closely by four of the BlackGuard.  Through the broken window, they could see the lightfighter that carried the escaping trio out of the hanger, on their way to the portal.   CLU turned his gaze on Rinzler, who met it unflinchingly.  The Leader then focused his attention on his assistant, standing opposite of the enforcer.  As if aware of his danger, Jarvis’ eyes went wide under CLU’s scrutiny.

               “Death to the User!” the assistant hastily proclaimed, hand raised in salute. He had barely finished speaking before CLU’s disc slashed through his throat; causing Jarvis to collapse in a shower of pixels, his visor dropping to the rock gently on the floor amidst the scattered remains. 

               Feral watched, silently.  She had never liked the ingrating, obsequious little data pusher.  Derezzing him, though?  Wouldn’t it have been better to have reassigned or reprogrammed him?

               Pulling his baton from its holster, the Leader began to run towards the broken window, throwing himself out and rezzing up a lightjet.  Rinzler followed, shadowed by Feral.  She could hear the guards following suit behind her.  They dove down, pulling up just in time to avoid crashing into the hanger floor, and flew out of the hanger in pursuit of the now white-lit lightfighter.

              

               They soon drew closer to the fleeing lightfighter, only to be fired upon by the fighter’s rear guns.  Moments later, the fighter’s lightribbons also activated, creating another hazard for the pursuing lightjets to avoid. 

               CLU pulled up, out of the incoming weapons fire, pushing his lightjet for more speed.  Rinzler and Feral swerved to the sides, increasing their speed until they could move behind the rock formations that dotted this portion of the Sea; moving out to cross their lightribbons in front of the fighter in an attempt to block or derezz it.  Behind them, a bright burst of light signaled the derezzing of one of the guards that had followed them. 

               More shots were fired from the lightfighter, this time focused on the shooting down the blockade of lightribbons that laced in front of the fighter.  The lightfighter burst through the damaged code, shattering it as it did so.

               CLU signaled to Rinzler, waving him off to the side, out of the line of fire, then moving in the opposite direction.  Behind the fighter, the three remaining guards continued their pursuit; firing on the lightfighter at every opportunity.  Feral followed her partner, keeping pace as the fighter wove in and out of the rocky spires and formations,  the lightjets of the guards close behind.  Another splash of light could be seen as a guard’s damaged lightjet went down in the Sea.  She could not tell if the guard had derezzed before his lightjet crashed.  It did not matter.  If he had been functional when he went into the Sea, he would not be for long.  The virus in the Sea of Simulation would corrupt and destroy his code.

               Yet another guard lost the battle with the lightfighter, smashing into a rock formation.  There was only one BlackGuard chasing them now, refusing to allow the fighter to shake free of the program that tailed them, firing on the fighter as it did so.

               The lightfighter pulled up abruptly, flying straight up into the sky, the guardsman close behind.  Feral wanted to warn the fool off, to call him back from his tactic.  A lightjet could not go as high as a fighter before it was no longer operational.  The choice to attempt to trail the lightfighter _up_ was almost certain to end the guard’s runtime.

               And then it was down to her, Rinzler, and CLU.  Feral dropped behind the fighter, drawing fire to distract the Users from her partner.  The distraction worked, and weapons fire from Rinzler’s lightjet ripped through the wing of the fighter, damaging it and costing the Users their rear weapons array.  She watched as Rinzler pulled even with the fighter, sliding over the top of the cockpit to look inside.  He dropped back to where she waited, trailing the fighter as it continued to flee to the portal.  Feral glanced over at her partner, waiting for him to give an order: Shoot the fighter down, or attempt to cripple it to allow capture.  On the lightjet beside her, she watched as Rinzler shook his head, as though bothered by something she could not see.  Behind them, CLU pushed his lightjet closer, his voice over the comms calling out as he ordered Rinzler to shoot down the fighter, to ‘finish the game’.  Startled, Feral watched as instead of following CLU’s orders, her partner pulled up and away from the fighter.  With no other orders given, she opened her comm channel to Rinzler’s; listening tensely for the next order to come from her main program. 

               CLU’s lightjet pulled ahead of her, ignoring her in favor of firing at the lightfighter that was flying in front of him, damaged code streaming from its wings.  The sysadmin’s shots hit, damaging the fighter even more, causing it to falter, sinking quickly toward the Sea.  A few more shots would be all it would take to destroy the lightfighter and its passengers.

               To the side, a rapidly approaching streak of light resolved itself into Rinzler’s lightjet.  Over her comm, Feral heard his voice, strong and certain…

“I fight… _for the Users_!” he called out to her, the damage to his voice absent this one time. 

She watched as he pushed the throttles full open on his lightjet, flying straight at CLU to crash into the administrator; their lightjets disappearing in an explosion of light. 

               Her mouth opened in a wordless, horrified scream, and she pulled her lightjet away from the fighter’s trail; desperate to circle back to where she had last seen the remains of her partner’s lightjet spiraling down out of the sky.  With no lightjet, he had no comm for her to try to reach him on, no way to verify his continued functions. 

               She saw CLU first, his golden circuits a bright streak falling.  It was only when she realized that the Leader was moving with purpose, guiding where he fell; that she saw the red-orange glow of Rinzler’s circuits in the darkness.  She slowed her speed slightly, readying herself for the move that would allow her to phase her lightjet into a baton if she needed to collect Rinzler.  From this distance it was impossible to tell if her partner still had his spare baton.

               Unexpectedly, she watched as CLU changed the angle of his passage through the air to collide with Rinzler, grappling with him for control of the baton that she could now see.  Unable to interfere, she watched as the sysadmin kicked Rinzler in the chest, wresting the baton from his grasp as he did so. 

               She pushed her lightjet into a dive, ignoring CLU, desperate to reach  her partner in time.  She was so close, so close that she could see him.  Feral snatched a hand from the controls to signal her partner.  ‘Coming!’ she signed.

Rinzler shook his head, signing ‘Go! Orders!’ 

Biting her lip at the conflict within her, Feral pulled the lightjet up and began following CLU.

She was an accessory program.  She was meant to follow her main program, Rinzler.  Rinzler, who had declared, “I fight for the Users!” and smashed himself into the administrator program to protect them.  Feral would fulfill her partner’s directive herself.  She would fight for the Users in his place; doing everything she could to help them reach the portal.

 

 

Behind her, alone and unwatched, there was a splash as a program fell into the dark waters of the Sea of Simulation.

 

 

*******

               It did not take her long to reach the bridge that led to the portal.  She could see CLU standing on it, waiting to see if the Users would appear in their badly damaged lightfighter.  If they did, she thought grimly, she would use everything that she knew to help them. 

               Flying lower, she phased her lightjet back into a baton, letting it fall as she landed on the bridge in a stumbling run. 

               CLU turned to look at her, his attention drawn from searching for the approach of the lightfighter.  “I should have imagined it would be you,” he said, giving a mocking laugh.

               “You’re all alike,” he told her.  “I made you as perfect as was possible…and this is how you repay my kindness?”  He walked closer to where she stood, waiting.  “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised.  I had perfected Rinzler, did you know that?  And then _you_ appeared.” CLU’s voice was bitter as he spoke.  “All that time, all that work…and you wormed your way into his code…like a virus, a Trojan, slipping in and changing him.  I almost didn’t catch it in time.”

               He looked at her, disgust in his eyes.  “I had to make him perfect again, and I did.  I even made you perfect---as perfect as that flawed User code could ever become---and gave you back to him.”

“All to end in this!” he cried loudly, as he flung his arms out to encompass the bridge…with the empty place beside him that should have been filled with Rinzler’s presence, and the program that faced him, determined to thwart his plan, or end her runtime here.

               CLU’s eyes  narrowed and he brought his arms around in front of him, fingers beckoning as he reached out.  “C’mon,” he snarled angrily.  “Let’s not wait around for the others.”

               Feral snatched her disc from where it rested on her dock, running to meet him; swinging her disc up to block his.  They trade blows, striking and slashing at each other.  She has managed to graze him more than once, the edge of her disc coming into contact with the code of his grid armor.  He has been fighting for much longer than she has even been compiled; but her main program was Rinzler, and she holds the combat coding written for the greatest warrior the Grid has ever known. 

               In the end, it doesn’t matter.  CLU is stronger, he has always been stronger; and it hurts so much to fight with what feels like a gaping hole in her code caused by the loss of her partner. 

               Feral has managed to block all of the administrator’s blows; however, the strength and power behind them have slowly but inexorably worn her down, and her own strikes are slowing. 

               Finally, a blow makes its way past her guard, scraping code from the edge of the armor on the forearm that she throws up to keep the disc from plunging into her core.  CLU takes advantage of the lapse, swinging his free fist in a blow that catches her in the side of her helmet, stunning her momentarily.  Another blow, this one to her chest, and she is falling to the bridge, unable to understand the words that he roars at her as he kicks her in the ribs.  Her disc clatters against the bridge, falling from her hand and the fingers that  can no longer maintain their grip.  A second kick from CLU’s boot, and her disc sails out into the darkness, away from the bridge and any hope of reclaiming it.

               Hands reach down and grab her arms, pulling her up to stare into blue eyes that blaze out of a face gone hard and cold.  “I failed with you,” a voice snarls at her, “I left an imperfection in my system when I should have removed it.  A fact that I’m going to remedy now.”  Feral can’t identify the voice, the processes that would allow her to do so off-lined.  She knows she doesn’t like the owner of the voice…and she struggles in the grip of the hands that trap her, trying to do whatever damage she can….

 

               And then she is free….she is falling through the air.... and the cold of the Sea is smashing into her like a blow, stealing her breath as it does so.

 

               Feral feels herself sinking….and as the blackness of the depths swallow her…..all that matters to her is that she has lost her partner. 

 

 

               Maybe she can find him in the Sea.     

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Just over a month of holiday chaos and frustration spread out while getting this ready to post....and I still can't reconcile the issues with paragraphs that are indented, and paragraphs that are not indented. 
> 
> Sorry folks, but I have been up for over 36 hrs. This is it. I give up. The indents win. I'm posting this as is, and I hope you like it anyhow.


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